Living near the Royal Hospital Kilmainham as I do, one of my part-time jobs during the summer is acting as an unpaid guide to confused tourists, writes Frank McNally
They get off the Dublin tour buses at their westernmost stop on Military Road, looking confident. But as they approach the RHK and see a sign saying "Irish Museum of Modern Art", uncertainty descends. They look at their maps. They look at the sign again. Then they look at me, who just happens to be passing, and they ask: "How do we get to Kilmainham Gaol?" Or words to that effect.
Sometimes the visitors are French or Italian or Japanese, and they have little English. But they don't need any, because I know what they want. Those searching for IMMA have already found it. The few searching for the RHK have found that too. The rest - the vast majority in my experience - are looking for the gaol and I have my directions for them off pat.
There's a certain amusement for the amateur tour guide in routing them through the Royal Hospital. This is the shortest way to the gaol, in any case, and reduces to nil the chances of them getting lost. But having directed them "up the road here, through the cobble-stoned courtyard, down the avenue past the old cemeteries, out the castellated gate, and across the South Circular Road", I sometimes peer after them to see if they stop and admire any of this background scenery. They rarely do.
I have been tempted to expand my patter on the RHK's charms. To direct them, for example, through the "cobble-stoned courtyard of Ireland's finest 17th century building". A building that, incidentally, "overlooks a beautiful walled garden first laid out in 1684". A garden that, by the way, "contains the grave of a four-legged war hero who was decorated by Queen Victoria for his services in Afghanistan". But it probably wouldn't make any difference. The tourists are going to the gaol, as recommended by their Lonely Planets and Rough Guides. Nothing will distract from that objective.
The gaol and the RHK/IMMA are not really comparable as attractions. The former is an admission-charging history museum, where the old cells and yards are part of the show, whereas the latter is a free-of-charge modern art gallery that happens to be housed in an old military hospital. The gaol's restoration was a voluntary exercise, a labour of love by former inmates. The transformation of the RHK into a gallery was a State-sponsored solution to a 60-year-old dereliction problem.
The two venues are not in competition, either. Arguably they complement each other, since some of the gaol-birds must land in IMMA on the way back. But there is a historic competition.
And neglected as they are, I feel a bit sorry for the RHK's old soldiers (including the horse), whose final, losing battle was against the gaol's last inmates and who finished on the wrong side of both history and the South Circular Road.
Their ghosts have to fight now on two fronts. No doubt it's presumptuous to ascribe opinions about modern art to ancient soldiers, but I'm still tempted to conclude that the veterans' relationship with IMMA would have been tense. I suspect many of the hospital's inmates would have shot first and asked what the installations meant afterwards.
For the red-coated spectres lurking in the corridors, the modern art collection must be like an occupying force sent from an imperialist future. The newly-arrived Miro sculpture in the courtyard must resemble an enemy tank, albeit a very abstract one. And as for the industrial-style container (apparently an installation by a Portuguese artist) recently dropped in the RHK's hay meadow, the soldiers would surely approach it with caution, lobbing a few grenades first to see if there was anyone inside.
But even if they weren't pinned down from the rear, the RHK's battalions would struggle to compete with the forces ranged against them across the SCR. The gaol is a superb museum, with a compelling story at its centre simple enough for even those with no knowledge of Irish history to follow.
The comment book is crammed with compliments from visitors, whose numbers continue to multiply. There were 168,000 in 2004 and 182,000 last year (many of whom would have been lost without me), and the coming year will see even more blown in on the wind that shakes the barley.
I'm not saying that the Royal Hospital has a contrastingly low profile, exactly. It's just that I suspect many of those walking through it wonder why, if this is a hospital, there are no nurses. Or patients.
This is only a suggestion. Maybe the Office of Public Works should consider appointing a part-time roving ambassador who would be paid (handsomely) to explain to tourists what they're looking at as the pass through the RHK. The ideal candidate would be able to comment, ironically and with lightly worn learning, on the juxtaposition of hospital and gaol, while also being in a position to assure them that, yes, that industrial container in the meadow is in fact a piece of art. I have no one in particular in mind for this job.
But if the OPW contacts me, I could probably come up with a name.